


until it hurts

by orphan_account



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Asphyxiation, Choking, Dom/sub, Kink Exploration, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-14 02:34:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11198646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When Wonwoo had started groping him on the couch, Soonyoung didn’t think it would bethatkind of night.





	until it hurts

**Author's Note:**

> this is for amber but i wasn't sure if i should Actually Really gift it to her... ao3 user orphan_account back at it again with the shenanigans. i'm a filth and can't fuking write and i am so sorry. i was literally so embarrassed by this that i didn't even read it over afjsfkfkdgslkj
> 
> really contemplated titling this "soonyoung exposes himself as kink garbage"

When Wonwoo had started groping him on the couch, Soonyoung didn’t think it would be _that_ kind of night. It’s so late, he just figured it’d lead to a quickie before bed, maybe to him sucking Wonwoo off—and, well, he’s about to do that, but mostly because Wonwoo has pushed him to his knees so firmly, so urgently, a fist tightly clenching his hair and forcing him to make eye contact. It’s honestly stressful. Soonyoung was hard enough already.

There’s this glint in Wonwoo’s eyes that isn’t always there—it doesn’t appear out of his own desire, but rather, a desire to please Soonyoung, a previously discussed need that he’s finally mustered up the courage to fulfill. Soonyoung’s chest is heaving from the moment Wonwoo tugs him by the hair and he already wants to touch himself, but something about that look that Wonwoo’s shooting him tells him he shouldn’t. His hands curl into the flannel of Wonwoo’s pajama pants as a sort of nonverbal plead—all desperate or brooding gazes aside, though, Soonyoung thinks only Wonwoo could pull off this kind of thing while still in his pajamas. He doesn’t know how he’s going to take any more, how he’s going to react when Wonwoo starts speaking.

And then, Wonwoo starts speaking. “Do you want to?” Of course, he has to ask. His hand loosens in Soonyoung’s hair a bit, instead electing to stroke the fine hairs at his nape. His voice has dropped, deep and quiet, but in this moment, his eyes are soft.

“Please,” Soonyoung breathes, inches away from Wonwoo’s clothed cock. From where he’s standing, he smirks down, sliding a thumb under the elastic of his pants.

“Please what?” It’s a cliché line, but Soonyoung swallows nonetheless. Jesus, did they even finish the movie earlier? What movie were they even watching?

“Please, sir.” Soonyoung apparently has enough blood in his body to have him both painfully erect and blushing all the way to his ears. Through his stoic expression, Wonwoo’s lips twitch a bit, as if contemplating the way the word sounds spoken out loud. Soonyoung had only ever suggested this.

(“I honestly just want you to have your way with me,” he’d said one night, tipsy and uninhibited. Wonwoo nodded.

“Yeah?” He sounded somewhat taken aback. Usually, Soonyoung was the only one with enough confidence to dominate anyone. “I feel like I couldn’t get into that. Like, that role.”

“What if I called you something, then?” Soonyoung threw words around. “Daddy? Master?” Wonwoo had cringed at both. “Sir?”

That one had certainly done a number on Wonwoo’s nethers. “Yeah, ‘sir’ sounds good.”)

The twitch in Wonwoo’s lips turn into a dark grin, his fingers finding their way to Soonyoung’s lips, gently coaxing his mouth open so he can slip his fingers inside.

Soonyoung’s tongue flexes on the underside of them, not quite sucking, but panting around them, holding Wonwoo’s wrist loosely. “Say it again?” He asks, then, “What do you want to do, baby?”

“Please—sir.” It sounds like he’s gargling, the words coming out strained around Wonwoo’s fingers. “Anything, please.”

“Anything?” Wonwoo still toys with the waistband of his pants, watching Soonyoung drool around his fingers. Soonyoung would be elated to suck him off, but if Wonwoo has other plans… “How about we just go straight to the bed, then?”

Soonyoung clambers onto the bed, lying down immediately, pliant and submissive. He’s always wondered how Wonwoo could be like this when Soonyoung was allowed to have control—now, he understands, sees the anticipation in letting someone do whatever they want to you. Soonyoung’s mind begins to race. What has he brought up to Wonwoo besides this? He seems to have something in mind as he glowers at Soonyoung from the end of the bed. Instinctively, Soonyoung’s legs part, and Wonwoo makes quick work of undressing what’s left—his boxers, which have a small wet spot visible at the front. Soonyoung somehow becomes more eager than he was before, still hesitating to even _look_ at his dick, trying his hardest to be good for Wonwoo. His head is swimming.

“Turn over,” Wonwoo commands, so Soonyoung does, his face squished into the pillow and his ass in the air. Soonyoung can’t see him from his position, can just hear him slick up his fingers and feel them pushing into him, the friction inside driving him crazy. He’s torn between not wanting this to end and just wanting to come. He knows Wonwoo won’t let him—not yet, anyway. Soonyoung resorts to whimpering through the tiny shocks of pleasure, his hips rocking forward on their own accord every once and a while. At one point, Wonwoo uses his free hand to hold them still, leaning over Soonyoung so he’s right next to his ear.

“Look at you,” he says, “you’re being so dirty. Do you want more?” Soonyoung tries to say “yes, sir” but it comes out as a garbled moan. Wonwoo just kisses behind his ear, pressing against his prostate to force more sounds from him. “Do you want me to fuck you?” Another vague “yes, sir,” this time paired with rapid nodding.

Wonwoo pulls back, Soonyoung feeling his absence until he eases him onto his back again. This time, it’s Wonwoo pulling his legs apart, wide enough for him to kneel between them. At some point, he’d taken his pants off. Soonyoung feels a tiny shred of pride seeing how hard he is—he wonders how it’s possible for Wonwoo to be enjoying this as much as he is. He’s just so composed, even when he eases himself in, kissing Soonyoung quiet until he’s flush against him, sheathed inside him but unmoving. There’s that look again—determination, or something. Wonwoo’s hands roam up and down Soonyoung’s torso, grazing over his nipples and gripping at his collarbones. At first, Soonyoung thinks he’s just teasing him, but his hands keep travelling upwards until they’re on either side of his neck.

Shit. “Sir—” Shit, shit, shit. Soonyoung thinks his dick might be visibly twitching. Wonwoo presses down slightly, right under his chin and jaw, not enough to cut off his breathing, just enough for a satisfying pressure. Soonyoung keens—Wonwoo must be able to feel it under his fingers. They twitch uneasily.

(“Sorry, I didn’t realize I was pressing down on your chest…”

Soonyoung makes riding dick seem easy. It’s not—one night, Wonwoo had to apologize for accidentally crushing Soonyoung’s lungs with trembling fists, seeking stability, skin-on-skin, anything. Soonyoung was panting from it, inhaling deeply while Wonwoo stroked his hair.

“It’s okay,” He sighed, a blissful smile spreading across his face, “I kinda liked it.”)

“You like this?” Soonyoung nods, whimpering—Wonwoo takes this as his cue to press down again, a bit harder this time, and to finally thrust shallowly into him. Soonyoung’s hands scrabble at Wonwoo’s wrists, guiding him to press harder, until his breathing is restricted enough that he’s left groaning, squeezing his eyes shut when Wonwoo shifts his hips to fuck into him deeper, harder. He keeps his pace slow, though, as to not jostle Soonyoung too much below him. Soonyoung eventually grabs at Wonwoo’s forearms, so Wonwoo pulls away, hands now still at the base of his neck, careful not to apply pressure so he can breathe. “Does it feel good?” He asks, still grinding against Soonyoung’s ass. He’s long since lost the ability to form words—he whimpers. Wonwoo slams into him and curls his fingers lightly around his throat again. “I know you heard me.”

“Yes, sir. Feels—fuck…” Now he’s got one hand choking Soonyoung and the other wrapped around his cock, watching his face intently and building a rhythm again, between constricting Soonyoung’s airways, thrusting into him, and stroking his dick. Soonyoung’s melting into the bed. He won’t last long.

Wonwoo’s hand loosens a bit, both on Soonyoung’s throat and his cock. “You can come, baby,” he says, “You’ve been so good, haven’t you?”

One last squeeze followed by one last release and Soonyoung is coming hard over Wonwoo’s knuckles, voice hoarse when he cries out. His legs tremble and he feels dizzy—it doesn’t help that Wonwoo hardly gives him time to come down before he’s fucking him at full force, head now tucked into his shoulder, desperately trying to finish himself off. It doesn’t take much longer before Wonwoo’s coming inside of him, collapsing onto Soonyoung’s chest and wrapping his arms around him tightly. Soonyoung pets his hair, tucks his head under his chin, where his hand was previously. So much for “sir,” he supposes. Wonwoo laughs breathily.

(“Don’t you have any kinks?” Soonyoung had asked Wonwoo one day, relatively early into their relationship, after a long Sunday morning of fooling around in bed. Wonwoo laughed breathily then, too.

“I don’t know, I guess I’m pretty vanilla.”)


End file.
